If I'm dreaming, it's not happening,though I'm wishing it was real'Cause people are stupid,and I feel so useless,and I'm not sure how much longer I can deal.

Help me, I'm not dealingSave me, I'm not healing

I think I'm okay, then I'm twitchingAlmost under control then I'm flipping outI suddenly know that my chest is caving inAnd that damn black hole has replaced my lungs again.

So I politely call you things you wouldn't say to a priestWith a smirk designed to patronizeAnd vacant yet inhuman eyesThen leave you without warning and a laugh that makes you cringe.

Maybe you found me or I can't stay awayMaybe I'm screaming or crying or trying to BREATHEHalf of every word's a lieBut a little bit is better(Or just less distressing)Than hearing all the times I faded out of my own life.

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